


A Germaphobe God Misses His Wife (Or: Vestus is Stuck in an Airport and Misses Kionii)

by TheAlemBooks



Category: Rise of the Ieta, The Alem Books
Genre: Airports, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, God of Love, Gods, Kionii and Vestus are legit OTP, Mortals, Objectification, Other, Past Violence, Scars, Separation Anxiety, Separations, Sexual Tension, Sexy and he knows it, Sort of because Vestus is a god of love so idk, Trusde is in there somewhere, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vestus has a bad day, Vestus if Lonely, but actually pansexuality, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlemBooks/pseuds/TheAlemBooks
Summary: Vestus is having a rough day and is stuck in an airport. He may be a god and could just teleport himself to Paris, but there's no fun in that. Besides, Kionii told him to do some human things for a couple of months, but now all Vestus could think about was her. Not that he could see her, Kionii was probably too busy taking over the world one conglomerate at a time to pay attention to him...





	A Germaphobe God Misses His Wife (Or: Vestus is Stuck in an Airport and Misses Kionii)

**Author's Note:**

> I may be the real author of the books, but it doesn't mean all the stuff I want to put in is actually in canon. :(

Vestus at the Airport

Vestus rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white button down once more, readjusting the black silk tie hanging down his chest. His leg jittered against the cream tile of the airport floor. The metal arms of the padded chair he sat in dug into his waist when his body tilted to the side. He preferred to sprawl and lounge lazily across the seats, but two people sat on either side of him, caging him to the tiny chair. Vestus would have growled but Kionii's voice tittered in his head, reminding him of manners and the proper public protocols. Growling and shoving people out of their seats was not one of them. He bit his lip and pushed aside those feelings in favor of listening to the bustle of the airport.

The wrinkly man sitting next to him coughed into the shoulder that was pressed into Vestus's. Vestus's pale eyes widened, face twisting into a scowl. He looked away and tried to pretend that he was somewhere else, preferably a room with a view, two lovely humans on either of his arms, and a large bed to spread out on. His eyes slid over to the girl on his other side, landing on her plump red lips. He wanted to bite those lips, taking them between his teeth and… He licked his own mouth. The girl smirked and he took a glance at her brown eyes. They weren't as dark as Kionii's but he didn't mind.

Her auburn hair and cheekbones were stark against her pale skin. Her thin eyebrows, perfectly plucked, quirked and she leaned closer to him. Her breath hinted of chocolate, eyes hooded when she said, "Hi there," nudging her hand out for a shake.

He smiled, pearly whites framed by his lips. He smoothed his hair back with his hand before grasping her soft hand. Vestus was skilled with the ways of seduction and his voice pitched low, greeting in an alluring British accent, "Hello, I'm Vestus." Her eyebrows rose at the strange name but she flushed when he glanced down at her breasts so he knew all was forgotten.

"Janet," she nodded towards their gate. "Where're you from?"

"Well, Janet," he rolled her name; her eyelashes fluttered, "I'm heading back to the States."

"Home's in the U.S.?"

No, home wasn't in America, far off actually. Home was a little island in the middle of the Atlantic, only to be visited once a year with Kionii. Home was wherever Kionii was.

"Yes," he told her.

She nodded. She bit her lip and a sly smirk blossomed across her face, proud and eager of her thought. "So did you come here for business or for," her voice breathy—unattractive with her face, Vestus decided—and eyes fluttery, "pleasure."

Vestus was fully ready to answer with pleasure, but the man next to him erupted into another coughing fit. Mucus and spit sprayed across the back of Vestus's neck when the man failed to cover his hand. Vestus's back straightened, muscles tightening. The god was tempted to rip out the man's spleen. He barely contained his anger by biting down, hard on his lip. The girl, Janet, raised her eyes in concern and Vestus muttered an, "Excuse me," and flung himself out of his chair.

He fled to the bathroom, tearing off his shirt as he went. Vestus hated clothes anyway, preferring to live in the nude. The man coming out of a stall ogled and stared, gaping at the sight of him. Vestus smirked absentmindedly but grabbed a paper towel, slathering it in soap and water, and angrily dragging the towel across his neck in quick red jerks. When he was done, calmed and red skin back to its pale creamy flush, Vestus stilled.

He was alone in the bathroom by now. His shirt was torn into two, hair a muss, and he was tempted to murder some mortals. Two of those things tended to be good things on a regular day, but throw in a hatred for crowded public spaces and a sudden jolt of separation anxiety from Kionii, and the god of love was feeling startling alone. Cold, a more abstract word for it.

Where was home? That wasn't how Janet worded it, but the underlying, Who's home? Who's your family, laced the loaded question like the roots of Kionii's plants, digging deeper and further into the ground and spreading.

Home, a three-dimensional structure with multiple rooms that holds up a roof, a shelter against the elements, is a building, but Kionii, she was home. Kionii was the only one who pulled him up, out of the pit of chaos, who stuck with him for centuries. She was more than their little island out in the ocean, drifting softly with the waves. Vestus missed her touch.

He hadn't seen her in a while, a few weeks at least, not since last fall with the crisp golden leaves coating the grounds. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, ochre suit clinging to her bony frame, her hips pointing out like daggers. He hugged her anyway and wished her to feel better. She kissed his neck, leaving an ashy imprint of her lips, promising to look better when he saw her next. Her withered fingers curled with his, holding hands as they walked through the bleak city. Kionii whispered sad reminders into his ear and he boasted of his conquests, pleased when she rolled her eyes at him.

They didn't wear rings like mortals did. But he knew the scars on her back were for him and she knew there was always a spot for her on his bed, right in his arms.


End file.
